


Ease of Habit

by SecondSilk



Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M, post-ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-02
Updated: 2010-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-10 22:05:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondSilk/pseuds/SecondSilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Need to Know, House tries to justify himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ease of Habit

**Author's Note:**

> Beta-ed by Topaz_Eyes, who went above and beyond.

_You don't like yourself. But you do admire yourself. It's all you've got, so you cling to it. You're so afraid if you change, you'll lose what makes you special. Being miserable doesn't make you better than anybody else, House. It just makes you miserable._

*

The door closed behind Wilson, and House turned back to the view over Princeton. Wilson's leaving was not an end. It was not even an end to the argument, because they just had the one argument that was ongoing. House knew Wilson would wait for him somewhere. House knew that Wilson knew that House would go looking for him. Eventually.

House went searching for and found Wilson two days later. It was dark and cool again, but not unpleasant. Stacy was gone. She had packed up her office and driven her life back to Short Hills, leaving only the sign from her door, a slightly mournful aftertaste in House's memories of the past few months. She had come and gone, and Wilson was on the balcony without any dope. Wilson came here for the freedom of outside without having to leave the security of the hospital, a habit House found endearing.

House joined him leaning against the rail and wished he were still twelve years old enough to lob spitballs onto the pavement below. He expected, or maybe only hoped, that Wilson would recognise that childishness in him, too, and call him down for it. But Wilson said nothing at all.

"It's easier," House said, when it became apparent Wilson was not going to greet him.

Wilson offered no more reply to the sudden statement than he had to the silence that preceded it.

"Being miserable," House explained. "If all you want is to be miserable, you don't have to work very hard to get it."

"You work extraordinarily hard to be miserable," Wilson said. The tone of the words may have shown his amusement, but Wilson addressed only to the concrete below them.

House shrugged, and his shoulder brushed Wilson's. Wilson did not react.

"Yeah, but that's fun. And if I lose, I've gained something."

"And if you win?" Wilson demanded. The demand was quiet, though, and he didn't look at House. "All you do is drive people away."

"You're still here," House reminded him, shoulders brushing again.

Wilson made a noise that might have been a laugh. He might also have scoffed at the comment, either to suggest that it was not true, or should not be so. Neither of them was surprised that Wilson was still there, with House, after everything that had happened between them. House did sometimes wonder why Wilson had stayed, and Wilson wondered why House kept him around, but neither questioned what they had.

"I don't think you could do anything to force me to leave, not now," Wilson said.

When he thought back now on things that House had done to him, he was amused, however horrific the situation had seemed at the time. The incident in the cafe in Manchester, where House had given a speech on the cancer causing agents in the chocolate sauce, had been reasonably difficult to weather at the time. Remembering the look on the manager's face made Wilson smile even now.

He chanced a look at House beside him. House had begun to think, he'd stopped seeing the scene before him, and Wilson did not want to follow that train of thought to its conclusion. He squeezed his eyes shut, and hoped that House would hear him when he spoke.

"Oh, no, you don't," he said. "You don't get to do that."

House just raised an eyebrow.

Wilson, feeling generous enough, and desperate enough, spelled it out.

"You don't get to make this into a competition. You got Stacy back, and then you got her to leave again. You don't get to try things on with me, just to prove me wrong."

House was silent. This was the line between them, the paradox: could God heat a burrito so hot that He Himself could not eat it? If House tried to make Wilson leave, Wilson would stay to spite him. But if he didn't try, Wilson could leave and House would not be able to claim it was what he wanted. Complacency was one of Gregory House's greatest fears. Trust Wilson to make him see that he had become complacent about that, too.

House turned his body to rest his hip against the edge of the balcony and face Wilson. Wilson watched him out of the corner of his eye, wearing a wary, calculating look.

House always worried that Wilson would be able to follow his train of thought, to stop him before he could execute his plan, to predict him. Sometimes House needed someone to do that for him, he knew. But never at the risk of being taken for granted. He wanted always to be astounding.

So House moved before Wilson could see him. One hand reached around Wilson's neck to tilt his head and the other caught his shoulder to pull him forward. Wilson blinked, and while his eyes were closed, House kissed him.

He pressed as close as he dared; it might be his last chance to do this and he had to do it properly. Wilson would reject him, either because it was the right thing to do, or because he didn't want this from him. And House didn't want him to know that it was not merely a prank.

For a moment Wilson kissed him back. His lips were warm and he didn't taste sweet, as House had once thought he might. Wilson tasted new, and his lips slid across House's with ease and confidence. House squeezed his eyes closed and pressed closer to him. He was in real danger of drowning in the moment, and he didn't care.

Wilson pulled back, his expression still wary and calculating.

"No," he said, neither sad nor certain.

Wilson pressed a hand to House's chest and paused as though he might say more. He took half a step backwards and turned away. He walked back into his office, leaving House with nothing but a sense of triumph. House watched him leave only out of the corner of his eye. Then he leant back over the rail and cheerfully hocked a loogie on to the pavement below.


End file.
